First Sign of Spring
by Argentum Famulus
Summary: Not every bud blossoms into a flower. Some wither away; others are brutally picked. She volunteered to have herself sold to a geisha house to become an apprentice-geisha. She uprooted herself and now, she is trying her best to survive the remainder of her days. "I think you are quite safe... Your thorns will keep away all the scoundrels in this world so you can bloom in peace." AU
1. Prologue

**Present Day: A Single Letter &amp; Broken Promises**

* * *

"Misaki, wait!"

She did not listen to the voices that shouted behind her. Instead, she ran. She ran as fast as her feet could carry her. Somewhere behind her, her slippers had flown off and she went on in nothing but her bare feet. She ran out the sliding doors of the house, down the stairs of the front porch, and out of the gates. She did not know if everyone was staring at her; whispering about what a mess she looked; how strange she looked; what in the world she was thinking. But what did strangers matter compared to the only one who meant something (_everything_) to her.

There was a burn running up the entirety of her legs and they begged for her to stop but her stubbornness refused. So she ran ignoring the ache from the muscles of her legs. It as the sort of ache which had not felt such extent of pressure and stress in so many years – probably since the twins were born.

The whispering people stopped. For a second all noise stopped, except for a distinct buzz that was followed by an altogether loudness: sirens.

_To my dearest Misaki._

_I know even if I make a thousand apologies it would still be insufficient in expressing how sorry I am for being unable to keep my promise to you. I imagine you're furious because I wrote something like this even though I swore that I would return home to you. But, I can't help but leave something to at least apologize in case I break my promise to you. I can see vividly the way the entire house clears out of the path of your wrath. Except for Tora perhaps, however, he always was a fool._

Pebbles on the path cut the soles of her feet, some of them digging in and clinging to her raw and reddened flesh, the pain present only in the back of her mind. She could even hear the deafening sound of the sirens that warned all the people to rush indoors because an airstrike was coming and the people that were shouting and ushering each other in, shouting for her to quickly run inside to safety, into a shelter. Anywhere, as long as she was safe from the air raid that rained from above. But what did an enemy's assault matter at this point? Who would be left to care that she was gone? She was another uncertainty; unknown; a droplet of flesh and blood in an entire ocean.

_I am writing this letter just as I am about to go the front lines. You call me a know-it-all and a show-off but even I do not know what awaits me on the battlefield. Of course, books tell us that it is power, adrenaline, blood, glory, and death. I have a hunch that most of it will be blood, death, and overwhelming feelings of wanting to return home to you._

She ignored it all.

_I am constantly reminded of so many things. Funny enough, everything I can remember at this moment revolves around you. It feels like the seventeen years I had before are empty and inconsequential. They probably were because you make all the difference in the world. My brilliant Misaki._

Up ahead, Misaki could see the planes of the enemy flying overhead and leaving a trail of pelleting shells to plummet in their wake. Harmless in appearance until they hit the ground in a cataclysmic burst of energy. Yet in the frenzy of an approaching death, the distinct buzz as they soared by and the whistle of the weapons they dropped onto the town was muffled by the sound of her pounding heart that was louder than any explosion. Nearly everyone was inside already. Buildings around her were up in flames, the trees and houses she grew up around; the path she became familiar with. Everything surrounding her was now up in a wall of brightly flickering flames, crackling in the wood they caught, embers hissing and spitting out. Red and orange and vicious. Nothing of her memories seemed to want to remain.

_For instance, the road where you fell and had your pride injured because I decided to help. I remember how you forced yourself not to cry. Or when you came after me to give me the thrashing of my life. I doubt even on the frontlines, anyone would be as large a warrior as you. Then I remember the rows of cherry blossom trees where we walked together. You may hate it but I love to carry you in my arms. I've never told you so but it makes me feel invincible._

She ran and ran and ran, around the weaker trees that had fallen and continued to blaze. She skirted around a fallen power line, jumping the wires, arms shielding her when debris spit her way. There was smoke everywhere and she almost missed it but when her eyes caught it, leapt to the side as another great tree fell to the ground with a mighty thump. It scattered soot and embers all over her, the bark burning into ashes.

Beyond the tree was the Okiya and there, standing beside the place where she met her first family in this town was the place she truly called home. A beautiful, modest house for a modest family that was due to grow. It was the home that belonged to the Usui family: Takumi and Misaki and their once expecting children.

_And the most important thing, the treasure I will miss most, is your smile when you sat on my veranda as I drew camellias and chrysanthemums and butterflies on your arm. Your hands will continue to remain a source of wonder for me. It is a pity that I will never see such beauty with my own eyes. I will miss hearing you say my name in anger._

And now it was up in flames, red and orange and vicious. It burned down the dreams and memories that clung to the walls, the place where they spent their time together. The place where he held her in his arms, a home within a home. Somewhere near her, a person screamed as they tried to find a way out of the thicket of fire while another yelled to have their life spared.

He promised her that he would return home to her; safe; sound; breathing; smiling.

_You were my most important person, my most beautiful flower. Misaki. I loved your determination, how you always did your best. I loved your smile. I loved and will always continue to love you, Misaki. I have hurt you countless times but I am asking you again. Please forgive me._

Her knees buckled, unable to hold her weight any longer, and Misaki sunk to her knees. Tears blurred her vision. Her lungs strained and heaved against the thick black smoke that cloaked the space around her. It was quickly becoming a curtain but she stayed, teeth clenched and on her knees, as she watched the last pillars of her and Takumi's home burn down.

Again, fate was robbing something she decided, against all odds, to trust and love and hold close to her heart.

_I am thankful everyday that you said yes and chose to marry me, despite how angry I make you. You made me feel worthy. You accepted me unconditionally and pulled me into the light. I am proud and honoured to have been the man you love._

"Misaki-san, get out of there!"

She refused to turn around, making sure to get the last glimpse of their home before the smoke overtook her vision. She barely heard the loud crack or saw the looming silhouette that was swaying above her precariously. When the roof caved into the blaze and smoke overtook her home, she briefly turned around when another loud crack sounded. A flickered gaze above her allowed her see the wooden structure that was quickly descending down.

In that very moment, Misaki's entire mind was wiped clean of a single thought.

_Love our child, the miracle created of our feelings, enough for the both of us and please, forgive me._

_Written with all my love,  
Usui Takumi._

This was it. Here, in front of the ashes of their home, her fate was sealed. Misaki closed her eyes and prayed. Because there was no way out of this mess and in her moment of selfishness, clarity finally dawned on her. Misaki could feel every second of her the time left for her, every breath that passed. She realized that had failed the last thing Takumi had asked of her. She could feel the heat of her end. In a moment of foolish irrationality, she failed both Takumi and their children. And now she would pay the price with her life.

"**_MISAKI!_**"

* * *

**Author's Note:** PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE READ THE _First Sign of Sleeping FAQ_ ON MY PROFILE BEFORE CONTINUING TO THE NEXT CHAPTER. It should help clear up any questions and/or misunderstandings you may have regarding the story as you read _Chapter 1_. Thank you very much in advance!

**...::::~ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ~::::..**


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**  
**Sixteen Years and a Day Earlier: First Meetings**

* * *

_Early Spring, *Showa 3 (1928)  
*Hanano Okiya_

* * *

She was doomed. It was official, today was definitely her execution date. '_How in the world am I supposed to get back onee-san's *_yukata_ now?_'

She knew Satsuki would never yell at her for something that was explicitly the fault of last night's harsh winds. However, Misaki also knew that Honoka would definitely give her a stern and very, very, _very_ threatening talking to – not to mention it was the older girl's birthday, the yukata in question was her favourite one, and she expected the day to go off without a hitch. But, besides Honoka's barefaced intimidation tactics, Misaki simply didn't want to cause any trouble in the *_Okiya_. Everyone had enough to worry about as it was after the drunken scuffle one of the customers had gotten into and Satsuki was responsible for cleaning up both the mess during, after, and next-day-after the altercation ensued.

With a sigh, Misaki desperately looked around the yard until – lo and behold! – she found a fallen branch that would probably just reach the yukata innocently hanging onto the branch of the neighbour's tree. She could only be grateful for her luck that she found the branch and that their neighbour, whoever it was, did not look out into their backyard yet. Standing on the tips of her toes, Misaki stretched her arm out as far as she could and tried to snag the clothing onto her branch.

'_Just a little, tiny bit closer… come on, stretch out a little farther…_' She beamed when the tip just snagged onto it. Ever so slowly, she pulled the nightgown over, making sure it didn't slip off from where it precariously clung. Misaki, ever the vigilant and prideful youth, was so focused on her task that she failed to notice her once-thought-to-be-asleep neighbour approach.

"Need some help?" She gasped in surprise and let go of the branch as one would a hot soldering rod. Misaki stared at her neighbour with eyes wide in alarm and trepidation, looking every bit a guilty criminal caught in the act. She was like a statue, frozen and apparently shocked into a condition that rendered her not only speechless but unblinking as well.

He stood over her with his arms crossed and face impassive yet... why was it so easy to imagine enormous, plush flowers bloom behind him and a non-existent wind tussle his already-tussled hair? It was easy to understand why her sisters in the Okiya had tittered on about him over the last week. In other words, he was exactly the dashing, arrogant lad that would capture a girl's heart and then crush it between his fingers without remorse.

He quirked an eyebrow, waiting for the girl to say something, give him a sign that he did not cause a child to get a stroke, _anything_ really. Having waited for some odd few seconds and still getting no response from the shell-shocked girl, with a reluctant sigh, he took matters into his own (unwilling) hands.

'_Remember what Satsuki says: always grace potential-customers with the Okiya's grace,_' Misaki thought.

Just as he opened his mouth, she miraculously recovered. "Excuse me," the girl said with a smooth bow and a serene smile, looking every bit the perfect hostess. The shift of her personality was as ridiculously swift as it was ridiculously disturbing. "Sorry to trouble you so early in the day, however, could you please pass that?"

Realizing that he was the one that was now in a mouth-ajar stupor, he promptly pulled himself together and picked up the cloth she was referring to. "This?"

She nodded decorously and completely unlike the obnoxious little girls he had met in his lifetime. Yet, this – considering his lack of social grace and interaction with most females (at least of his own volition) coupled together with his sixteen and something years of age – was not much to be counted for. Still, he knew for a fact most children were not so… so _unchildish_ by nature. Interest mildly piqued since he first moved into the town, he sized her up and smirked.

She didn't know what it was about that smirk, but it rubbed her the wrong way. And at that moment – regardless of what her sisters in the _Hanano Okiya_ thought about their so-called mysterious and debonair neighbour – Misaki had come to an instantaneous decision: '_I hate this man._'

"Isn't this just a little too big for you?" The taunting in his voice was very hard to miss and made her toes curl with distaste. Misaki hated being played with. And unless she was on-the-clock with her duties as a Geisha-in-training, she found it excruciatingly hard to let mocking simply fly over her head. But, she also knew that Satsuki would not appreciate her ripping off the face of their new neighbour.

A minute amount of change flickered in her features, which Usui did not miss. "It doesn't belong to _me,_" she sniffed, her patience, as well as her smile, stretching uncomfortably.

Finally, he thought with wry relief. He was relieved to see that he was conversing with a child and not an old woman who apparently found the secret to eternal youth. Although the girl was still smiling politely, it was easy to spot the lack of sincerity in it as the obnoxiousness seeped through. He decided to get to know his neighbour a little better. What better way to do so than to press her buttons?

He yawned, the sleep still not having worn off, leant against the trunk of his apple blossom tree with a lazy grin. "Then why do you want it?" He couldn't remember the last time he decided to be so obnoxious and pick a fight with a little girl. Surely, he was not regressing into a child?

"Because," she said the word very simply, yet there was a sour undertone in her voice (as though _she_ was the one talking to a child) that made him want to laugh, "it's our laundry." He gave her a look of sceptic disinterest and her smile dropped altogether.

'_This annoying man..._'

Clearly, he would not cooperating whatsoever and ergo her courtesy would be wasted on him. Misaki eyed him – to him, the stare only looked resentful and he was not totally wrong – and noticed that the garb was within her grasp. So, as he stood defenselessly with the yukata in his hands, Misaki took the opportunity to shoot her hand up and snatch it away from him in one sweep.

She smiled winningly, though her eyes burned something fierce. He stared at her, taken aback by her actions. "Thank you for helping me retrieve it."

Turning on her heel, she walked away victoriously with Honoka's yukata, the dried laundry, and her well-pruned esteem. She gave him no time to get another word in. Misaki hoped, for the life of her, that they never had to encounter each other again.

* * *

How completely and utterly wrong Misaki was.

The next day, at the same time, during laundry time relatively early into the day, she was outside in the yard once more with her two wicker baskets. As always, one empty to carry in the dry laundry and the other full of sopping wet clothes she had just spent the better of two hours washing down. Just as she stepped out of the Okiya, she noted with resignation that her neighbour was already out on his porch. He lay down there with a newspaper opened over and covering his entire face. For all the world, he seemed to be asleep – that is, if he was not dead, Misaki thought shrewdly.

It was as she began to hang the laundry that the wind picked up. '_It seems I'm in luck today,_' she thought.

The combination of the sun and the wind would be sure to dry the sodden laundry in no time. Then, she could easily finish collecting the clothes and (if time allowed it) iron them, thus, completing half of her work for the next morning. She hummed under her breath but then caught herself, wondering whether her neighbour was a light sleeper. If anything could drain her luck, it was the man beyond the feeble hedge-fence. Her eyes flickered toward him, making sure he was asleep. It seemed he was in a deep slumber and Misaki happily went back to her chores. Nevertheless, she did not hum again – _juuust_ in case.

While the wind worked to her favour, she noticed that as it began to pick up, a rustling sound was coming from behind her. Turning her head, she was just able to catch sight as part of the neighbour's newspaper was taken hold of by the edge and carried off. She watched it drift forward and back, and forward and back again until it got caught in the branch of his apple blossom tree. And then, slowly, as the wind slowed down, it rustled amongst the whispering leaves until it fell into her yard. This time it got caught in the hedge. Yet, when the wind tried to lift it, the paper stayed firmly snared.

For a moment, as she hung up the last of the laundry, Misaki debated with herself on whether or not she should return the paper; whether or not it would be better to simply throw it out herself; whether or not she should leave it to nature to dispose of on its own. Unfortunately the debate lasted for a fleeting second since the more decent part of her demanded that she return the paper to its rightful owner. She may not like him, however, that did not excuse the fact that she would ignore him when he needed help.

"Hey, *_oji-san_." He snored on (at least she imagined he snored) and did not so much as twitch a finger. Misaki tried again, a little louder this time. "Oji-san." It took a moment for him to realize that he was being called as he sat up half way, slowly peeling the paper off of him. He wore spectacles as his eyes roamed over to where Misaki stood perched on her toes and lips pressed. She had neatly folded the paper and held it out, noting his face did not look like that of someone who had been sleeping. "I believe this is yours." He blinked at her vacantly and she sighed. His sluggish response made a good case for his napping. "It fell into our yard."

The young man sat up entirely and stared at her curiously, one eyebrow quirked up in wonder of her flagrant sauciness and nerve. The perceptive part of Misaki noticed how often he seemed to do that, although this was only their third encounter and she was not willing to find out if she was right or not – although she was confident she was. The other part of her, the more inquisitive one, wondered exactly _how_ he controlled his eyebrows in that he was able to lift one without the other tilting up simultaneously.

She shifted her weight under his unwavering gaze, still holding out the paper. Then she gave it an impatient shake, expressing her open irritation with narrowed eyes. His mouth slowly opened and Misaki had half a mind to ask if he was usually this stupid when he woke up but held her tongue. After all, she did have the displeasure of dealing with Satsuki's monstrous nephew every morning and waking him up was more threatening than dangling meat in the face of a starved tiger.

"…_Oji-san_?" His dubious tone was not the least bit groggy and she concluded he most definitely was not sleeping; just lazing around inanely. He smirked and Misaki found herself scowling at his arrogance. On second thought, she preferred braving Aoi's ferocity over her sloppy neighbour any day. "I'm not that old, little girl."

"Could have fooled me," she bit back without missing a beat.

'_Cheeky girl_.'

He ignored the way she shook the newspaper and inquired, "Into your yard?"

He watched the way her youthful face tightened, eyes losing their annoyance in place of a bitter, hardness. "Yes, that is what I said," she said flatly. Could he get any slower?

'_Yard next door is the yard of the Geisha house…_' He stared at her a little more closely now, mind going through how every day she would come out with a large load of laundry in her tiny arms; how they did not buckle once under the weight of the tiny mountain of clothes. He approached her leisurely, watching her sigh in impatience but wait for him nonetheless.

It was common knowledge of the way young girls were taken in or sold to such institutions for training. Still, he could not help but wonder."Aren't you a little young?" He took the paper from her.

"No." Avoiding his eyes with tight lips, she smoothed down the front of her yukata. "In fact, it is quite normal for young girls to be taken in for training. And the women training me are gracious and extremely generous." Her tone was one of warning and even as a young man, he took her warning quite seriously. It was very clear she did not take kindly to those who looked down on her or the people she lived with.

She did not give any other parting remark or even a nod of acknowledgement. Instead, her actions were identical to what she did yesterday: rounding out on her heels, grabbing the wicker of dry laundry, and heading inside the Okiya without a backward glance.

* * *

"Remind me again, how old are you?"

Misaki scowled but pointedly kept her eyes away from her neighbour's (stupid) face and on the laundry she needed to quickly remove from the clothes lines outside. Today, she had no laundry that she had to hang up however, she had heard that there was a chance it would rain in the afternoon – better to be safe than sorry. "I am discouraged from talking to strangers on my own. Especially strange men."

Never mind that she never even mentioned anything about her age. Where in the world did he get off thinking she was gullible enough to be _tricked_ into telling him anything about her?

He hummed in understanding – even his humming sounded arrogant and stupid! Was there anything that did not? "That's very good advice," he said simply. Then his grin broadened. "So, what was your name again?"

"You," Misaki seethed, finally turning around to give him livid snarl, "are such a creepy old man."

For a moment, he simply blinked at her face. At first, she was pleased thinking that he was simply taken aback. But then, she scowled again when he only pouted like a (very ugly) puppy. "That's harsh. I'm not exactly a grandpa, you know." His words were dry and bland in a way that made Misaki want to chuck her wicker basket at his face. He was lucky that they were separated by the hedges and her gratitude towards Satsuki put a leash on her recklessness. "Besides, you keep calling me that, however that's hardly my name."

"It should be," she muttered under her breath mordantly. She decided then and there, she would completely ignore him. Conversing with him was only a waste of her time and energy, so there was no reason to indulge him with her frustrations.

"I'd guess you're about seven?" She told herself to keep it together and did not respond. "Eight?" Still nothing. From the corner of her eye, she saw him smile victoriously. "Ah, I've got it. You're five."

"I am _nine_," Misaki shouted with indignation, looking at him thoroughly affronted for even suggesting such a thing. She did _not_ look like a five-year-old child. But it was the self-righteous look on his face that made her realize her terrible mistake. Misaki's face fell into an expression of defeat, her mouth ajar and lips trembling. An odd sound of embarrassment came from her that sounded something like: "Ahhn…"

That sneaky, conniving, conning, lazy, old man! _He tricked her!_ He actually tricked her, Misaki! Lips pressed together and cheeks flushing, he had a slap a hand to his face to contain his laughter although his shoulders were trembling from the effort. To say Misaki was mad would have been an understatement – she was positively infuriated!

"R-Really," he choked out, clearing his throat in attempt to smother his chuckles. It did not work. "You're quite small for a nine year old, you know." He realized, from her furious glower, that his words were not the encouragement he had been hoping to impart on the young girl. "Don't be embarrassed by it though."

"I am _not_ embarrassed!"

But her words flew right over his inflated head as though she had never even said them. "Every caterpillar grows into a butterfly sooner or later."

"Not if the caterpillar gets eaten by a bird," she growled, taking the clothes down and dumping them into her basket with more force than was necessary with dry laundry.

Seeing that his analogy did not impress her, he tried a different one. "What about every bud that blooms into a flower?"

"Unless it withers away or gets picked." Though she was not looking at him, he certainly stared at Little Miss Sunshine with a deadpan expression. He briefly wondered what it was that they made her eat the Okiya for her to always be so cross. Perhaps lemons and bitter gourd. Then again, her waspish responses held a personal edge to them. One that he was all too familiar with and guilty of.

Leaning against the trunk of the apple blossom tree, he observed her carefully. "What if the person picking it gently uproots it so that it can grow safely?"

Her response this time was not immediate, nearly a minute passing before she had an answer. "Then, that flower would be lucky," she said slowly, hesitantly. The girl was young but something aged and weary touched her youthful features; that something was also very sad. "But I'm not that flower."

Protectiveness stirred within him and he found himself looking at her in a more serious light than he expected to look at children. If he was being honest, he couldn't remember the last time he bothered to look at anyone with an ounce of solemnity. But after all that was said and done, her unintentional candour deserved nothing less.

"I think you're quite safe, *_Tsubomi_-chan." She stopped what she was doing and looked up at where he stood, meeting his gaze with her own. He noticed that her eyes were a very pretty shade of brown, something deep and rich like amber or possibly a very viscous honey. "Your thorns will keep away all the scoundrels in this world, so you can bloom in peace."

The way she stared at him was unnerving – as though she could see right through him and rifle through his own secrets – but she quickly blinked it away, replacing it with her usual scowl. "My name is not *_Tsubomi_, old man." Misaki made sure to emphasize the negative tense.

"And my name is not old man." He imitated her tone for tone, leaving her flushing with anger. Dumping the last article of clothing into her basket, she gave him one final scowl and frustrated harrumph before stomping back into the Okiya to get back to the rest of her chores. No doubt she would be imagining his face while ironing those clothes.

He watched her trudge the entire way until she was inside, something akin to a fond smile on his face. Just as she disappeared inside, he felt the first few droplets of rain and looked up to see dark, bloated storm clouds rolling in overhead. Not particularly in the mood for bathing outside, he made his way into his house. Bantering with her while building his appetite for breakfast left him particularly famished and ready to tackle the day's first tattoo customer. Fortunately for him, most people didn't prefer to show up to get tattoos on rainy days. He hoped briefly that today's client would be swayed not to show up but considering it was a young woman, he did not have high hopes.

Speaking of females…

His next-door neighbour – the only one of the crowd he interacted with, as of late – was a cute enough child but she was just as obnoxious and mulish as other children were. Yet, at nine years old, no one ever bothered to hold banter with him as fiercely as she did. Although, she was a far cry from the types of females he usually had the misfortune of encountering, it was nice to know that he wouldn't rot away from boredom.

He had his doubts when he had arrived but now, Takumi was looking forward to getting to know his new neighbour better.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I realized that I forgot to put a disclaimer in the prologue of the story and, as result of my terrible laziness, could not be bothered to edit it onto that chapter. So, here, I disclaim any and all ownership of _Kaichou Wa Maid-sama_, from which most of the characters are referenced, as well as _Mademoiselle Butterfly_, from which I drew my inspiration for the plot. Once more, I urge everyone to **please read the First Sign of Spring FAQ on my profile** to clear up any misconceptions that you may have had of this story.

*****_Translation and Terminology Notes_

_Showa 3_: simply context of the story's setting in the Showa Era – which lasted from 1925 to 1975 – with the "3" specifically referencing to 1928

_(Hanano) Okiya_: the lodging house in which geisha and _maiko_ (geisha-in-training or apprentice geisha) live during their contract or career; _Hanano Okiya_ simply means the "Okiya (lodging) of the flowers"

_Yukata_: a light, cotton kimono worn by both men and woman; casual enough to be worn both outside and inside the house as well as during summer.

_Oji_-_san_: in the context of the story, it means "old man" or "uncle"; used as an impolite way to refer to a middle aged man similar to the English term "Pops" (A/N: though you rarely hear that nowadays, yeah?)

_Tsubomi:_ Japanese for "flower bud"

**...::::~ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ~::::..**


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

* * *

The sound of terse knocking made him look up from Work. Takumi muttered something about being right back, making The Work nearly sob in appreciation for the respite. Finally, a break from all the needle-work and pinching and scratching and inking and digging into his flesh. He wanted a tattoo quite desperately, The Work confessed. Although he knew there would be some amount of pain, he never bargained for it to be a torture session in the guise of a paid-service. Rolling his aching shoulders during a pause, he prayed the tattoo itself would be worthwhile or else all of this was for naught.

Takumi, on the other hand, was not affected by the same torture and could easily thank the mail person who had taken the courtesy of saying, "Mail for Usui!" At least now he did not have to bother with any superfluous chatter about how he was and how nice the day appeared and was he the only one that thought most social conventions were nothing but unnecessary nuisances? He could come up with a one-man debate in the corners of his mind over the petty matter but now was not the time for it.

Knowing he had Work waiting for him, he did not bother with flipping through the mail and instead set it down next to him before going back to the ink and his needle-brush. The man (Work, as he was dubbed for the moment) having *_irezumi_ done was a scrawny little fellow. An accountant with a family history of grocers whom he helped on his off-days, from the little information he had conversationally given to Takumi. What had he said his name was? Fukishima? Yamimura? *_Yakisoba_? He certainly fit the criterion for the last one. Regardless, it was something along those lines – it was a very one-sided conversation, mind you.

But that was trivial considering it was his last day in getting his tattoo completed.

Tattooing had never been as slow of a progress as it was with this man. However, Takumi did not wholly blame the customer. After all, it could not be helped if he was unusually scrawny in build. Plus, he did not seem the type keen on physical activity. Takumi would say it was even expected that a tattoo around the arm would make him susceptible to an extensive amount of pain.

Moreover, Takumi was impressed by the little man and his fierce request: "Please decorate my arm with a serpent, Sensei!" In retrospect, the mess of helping him out of a sobbing, trembling muddle was a task he never imagined taking on. And when he had become a 'Sensei' to a man nearly five years his elder was beyond him.

Sometime early in the afternoon, Takumi finished his task and was putting his ink away while Yukimura – he finally remembered the man's name – admired the tattoo on his arm. He profusely thanked Takumi a good eight times before he was interrupted by a curt, "Thank you for patience and support."

Takumi did not have it in his heart to snap at the man because it made him feel like he was picking on a defenceless little girl (one who was not his wisenheiming neighbour). So, as much as he did not want to, he made sure to make an effort at civility. Yukimura made small talk as Takumi politely saw the man out – again, social conventions necessary to just barely maintain his business and survival. At the same time, he checked the mail he received, adding one worded answers and comments as his way of participating in their exchange. There was not much to go over, he thought absently. Some were unimportant letters, others ridiculous letters, and another did not belong to him at all. In fact, it belonged to his neighbours in the Hanano Okiya.

"‒really appreciate your service, Usui-san. I will be sure to let others know about your excellent skills and help your business grow!" He only half listened to the rest of the chatter, ready to dismiss him already, when a familiar little head bobbed past. "Oh, hello again, young lady." Apparently this Yukimura-fellow knew his innocuous (but also not) neighbour. He crouched down to her short stature with a warm smile. "Did you just return from our grocery?"

And there was the polite-hostess smile she used the first day – except this one seemed much more genial and sincere. Takumi felt disbelief at her ability to turn into an innocent and seemingly normal girl when she wasn't snarling at him like the devil's spawn. He also acknowledged a twinge of jealousy (just a smidge) but he knew that was his fault anyways and could not feel guilt for teasing her. It was much too amusing and most of his days were boring enough for him to die of from it. Besides that, she was already uncomfortable and hyperaware enough in his presence, judging from the way her eyes darted to him.

"Yes," she said, astutely ignoring Takumi and smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Peripheral vision was as much of a curse as it was a blessing. "My sisters needed some supplies."

"You always have much to keep you busy it seems." She nodded in agreement and Takumi did not miss the pointed way she stared at him for a second. To think she could get irritated simply by his being present. Just to ruffle her feathers, he smirked back at her. The other man was oblivious to the brief exchange of looks. "Do you need any help with the groceries?"

"No." To Takumi, however, the number of bags she carried said otherwise. Nevertheless, his lips stayed sealed. "But thank you for the kind offer." She barely managed to bow with the bags weighing her down.

Takumi thought of the bulky basket of laundry she dutifully carried out each morning without the slightest quiver of the arms. He never considered it, which seemed foolish now, but he knew even she had her limits. In this case, it was the number of bags she carried from the market. It was hard on her. He noted the way she repeatedly flexed her fingers. Still, she resisted exposing such vulnerability to make sure others remained ignorant of the effort she was applying to her menial chore. Obviously, Misaki had a staunch pride ‒ from his experience with it, he thought mordantly, her pride had to be three times bigger than her own body. All the same, Takumi wished he could snap at Yakisoba to move along so the girl could be on her way already.

Yukimura looked at the young girl with an expression that jumped between awe and pity. He relented with her wishes. After making sure to let her know that his offer was extended to her at any time she wanted, he bowed towards Takumi one final time and was on his way. Takumi, on the other hand, did not so much as get a glance backwards again as the girl-next-door swept off to do her own business. But he didn't mind. After all, they always met in the morning during her laundry run – not that she really seemed to want to.

He went back into his house and knowing his next appointment was hours away, he decided to finally read his newspaper. It was never interesting or insightful but, he mused with a sigh, it was the lesser of two evils. Usually, it contained the same superfluous information and gossip from the previous day but with a new element to give it a 'twist'. Even so, he read the entire bit from cover to cover. It was only when he was nearly halfway through the last article of the paper that he suddenly set it down and ran a hand down his face in exasperation. He just remembered it ‒ how could he have forgotten about it? The mixed-up letter he received. He didn't return it to the Okiya like he planned to. Better yet, he did not hand it to his haughty neighbour when he saw her. Not that she had given him the time of day, anyways.

Grumbling and cursing himself under his breath, he got up to his feet and headed over to the Okiya for the first time since he had arrived. Usually, social convention thought it necessary to greet one's new neighbours, Takumi did not know how exactly it would bode for him by greeting the owner of a geisha house and it did not help that as a young male, moving in next door would – to put it cleanly – reflect poorly of him and his interests.

He hoped that the owner was not nearly as intimidating as the young occupant he had met (and bothered) the past few mornings. Upon entering the lodge, the scent of light perfumes and a distinct undertone of sweet-sake overwhelmed his nostrils. For a moment, Takumi merely stood at the entrance, wondering what he was supposed to do now. Up ahead, he saw a lady with cropped and fashionably-combed hair talking amiably with another man and directing him into a room. A few seconds later, upon her return, she noticed the awkwardly standing Takumi and approached him with a smile.

"Welcome to the Hanano Okiya." Up close, she was significantly shorter than he was. He wondered fleetingly if they made that a qualification in this particular Okiya – it would certainly explain the so-called nine-year-old neighbour's five-year-old appearance. So, with his sarcastic thoughts in mind, he also bowed in kind. "And how are you doing today, young master?"

"Fine, thank you." Best to keep it brief, he told himself. "Actually, I moved nearby some time ago." By that he meant right next door but, from the way her eyes flashed with recognition, she obviously knew that already. "My name is Usui Takumi." He would be a little surprised if the girl had not tattled on the 'big, bad neighbour' next-door. After all, it was natural for children to want sympathy and cover in their guardians. Whether it was from a stain on their clothes or a pestering neighbour, it was simply natural to flock to the safety of an authority figure.

"Ah, yes, yes, of course, hello!" Apparently, the girl had not spread word of his boorish behaviour (he assumed she would be the type to exaggerate) if the owner's bright smile was any indication. She bowed once more, this time with more vigour. The woman was positively beaming. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Usui-san. My name is Hyuuda Satsuki and I am the chief lady manager of the Hanano Okiya. Oh, I've heard so much about you. Please treat us favourably." Takumi's forehead crumpled with confusion. From the brat's attitude, he was quite sure that girl would not have said anything but warnings and demon tales about him. It appeared that that was not the case.

Whatever the case, he pushed his perplexity aside and bowed again anyways. "I'm sorry to drop in so unexpectedly however it seems that your mail got mixed up with mine." He handed her the letter and she took it, surprised.

"I see. Thank you for bringing it over. The mailman must have had quite a number of deliveries today. Shigure-san does not usually make mistakes in his deliveries," she explained. "Even so, sorry for the trouble."

Takumi gave a small smile, just a _slight_ upwards tilt of the lips, yet it was an accomplishment for him. At least he knew his neighbours were pleasant – with a few exceptions. Yet those (_she_) would be manageable. It provided him with a good way to pass the mornings, which were relatively uneventful even in the middle of the week. Judging by the number of wealthy looking men that exited one of the rooms – laughing raucously, he might add – the same could not be said of business within the Okiya. "It's no trouble," he told her.

Walking out after the group of men (he would never understand people's fixations with such places) were the Geishas. Dressed in decorative kimonos and heavily made-up with several hair ornaments, they smiled indulgently and bowed to their customers. One in particular caught his eye. The only one he knew among them.

"Thank you, little one," one of the men said – it was plain to see whom he addressed. He crouched slightly in front of her with a smarmy smile. "Big brother will bring you some nice treats for next time, okay?"

She must have been used to such treatment from her 'big brothers' because, yet again, she imparted the same perfectly practiced smile and bow she did upon their first meeting. His first experience with it was enough for him to be able to see right through the too-perfect action. "Thank you for your kind patronage, masters."

The others followed suit, adding, "Please be careful on your way back." The three of them watched the men leave when Takumi locked gazes with the girl he met in the morning. Her eyes widened and he could see the panic that flooded them as they darted about. All at once, she swiftly spun on her heels and turned her back to him. He watched as she muttered something to one of the older girls beside her before scurrying back inside the room she had exited, the steady tap-tap-tap rhythm of her feet echoing in his ears.

Satsuki turned towards the guests who approached her. She greeted them graciously, asking about how their visit went as she made the necessary transactions with them. Happily, the group gushed about their entertainers and how much they enjoyed themselves and how nice they felt the atmosphere Hanano Okiya was. Takumi, waiting so he could just get his parting greetings over with – social conventions were indeed such a hassle! – stood quietly to the side.

"The little _maiko_ you have here seems to be flourishing."

His friend, nodding solemnly as though they were discussing the country's politics, added, "Indeed, she's very skilled."

"To think it's only been a few years since she began. She'll be a fully grown butterfly in no time."

Takumi was relieved when they left and even more relieved when he was able to leave the Hanano Okiya. Although it did not affect him initially, he soon realized that the scent of perfume, no matter how light, was suffocating. He was not used to such scents, especially for long bouts of time. It would have been impossible to wait it out any longer than he had. Although, in retrospect, the flowery fragrances were nothing compared to the way he felt asphyxiated by the weight of little Tsubomi's words from earlier in the morning.

"_Not if the caterpillar gets eaten by a bird._"

"_Unless it withers away or gets picked._"

"_Then, that flower would be lucky. But I'm not that flower._"

Takumi wondered if little _Tsubomi_ – he wished he knew her name – felt the same asphyxiation, morning after morning; day after day; week after week.

* * *

He had seen her! The obnoxious, brutish, neighbour-from-hell had seen her!

Misaki wiped at the tables furiously, wondering how she could have let her guard down so foolishly. With a bitter frown, she realized that she lost some of her vigilance in the past few years, having gotten so used to the peacefulness of the town and the Okiya. Even when she knew better. Even when she told herself over and over that this life was one of survival and she would become the weakest link; the most vulnerable prey. Even when she decided to become stronger and stay on her guard at all times.

'_This,_' she thought to herself angrily. '_This is what happens when you're too naïve._ _Stupid people think they can step all over you and ruin you._'

But no more. Such vulnerability would have to be put to an end. Without a doubt, she lived around trustworthy and honest people. However, she had seen and felt the effects – the terrible _consequences _– of naivety first hand. It was up to her to become strong, not only for herself but for those she took it upon herself to protect. And their new neighbour was exactly the 'thing' they needed protection from.

"Misa-chan, I think that spot of the table is plenty clean now."

Misaki blinked up at Erika and then down at her hand which had been scrubbing the same spot for minutes without end. "Ah! S-S-Sorry!" Erika laughed off the apology, saying it was fine.

"If I didn't see you do it, I would think that you waxed the tables," she teased.

'_Great,_' she thought mordantly. Now, she would have to polish the entire table in the same way so it all looked evenly cleaned. As if she actually needed more work on her plate. When she was done with the rest of the table, Subaru helped her fix the make-up and hair ornaments that had come out of place in her spontaneous and flustered cleaning spree.

"What is it that's got you so agitated, Misa-chan?" Evidently, she had noticed Misaki's earlier distress.

"Nothing, *_Onee-sama_. I'm fine." The older girl looked doubtful but let her drop the issue without pressing any further. She just hoped that Subaru did not notify Satsuki about her strange behaviour. Moreover, she pleaded that Honoka did not take too much notice.

It was all that stupid, stalking neighbour's fault. But he was unbelievably thick if he thought for even a second that she would allow his presence and the memory of his nefarious smirk haunt her within her own territory.

If there were two things Ayuzawa Misaki did not take to kindly it was, one, losing battles and, two, trespassers. Henceforth, she decided she would neither lose to her neighbour nor allow him to haunt her on her own grounds.

* * *

Takumi tried to go back to the unfinished article, he really did. But the ridiculous article – some speculation of conspiracy that expounded on "the growth of some company's trade with foreign countries" and the journalist's fear that Japan would be "vulnerable for conquest in the eyes of enemy aliens if it did not work to elevate itself to greatness" – was far from where his mind wanted to be. Over and over, without his consent, it wandered off to further decipher the cryptic words of his neighbour when he would be forced to yank it back to what he wanted. He was so distracted by self-opposition and roundabout tug-of-war that he was confused when he heard loud rapping on his door.

He looked up at the clock. It was already afternoon. It was too late for mail and he was not one to usually get visitors any time of the day – unless they were there to get tattoos. '_The four o'clock appointment,_' he recalled in relief.

Finally. A more reliable diversion. Two and a half hours of _irezumi_ and a grown man crying was sure to keep his mind off of– no, he thought with a deep frown. He wouldn't even dare to think about it. So, putting off his article again, he grabbed it and threw it into his rubbish bin with the surety that he would never get back to it anyways. Then, he leisurely made his way to the door where his customer waited patiently. Takumi showed him the way in and allowed him to get comfortable while he returned shortly with his supplies. After getting his supplies, he made sure to get a tray with a cup of tea. He learned early on that the best way to deal with people getting tattoos, especially those new to it or unused to prolonged pain for hours at a time, was to serve them something that would calm their nerves. Although, not everyone required it.

His customer – a bespectacled man named Koganei – insisted he was of the latter.

In the span of the first ten minutes, Takumi found out that his customer was a government agent and although they were supposed to be prohibited from things such as tattoos, Koganei was high enough in rank to have them brush the infraction aside. '_Because the world is nothing if all matters did not always boils down to rank and influence_,' he thought dispassionately. That and the fact that his wife, a woman named 'Tsubaki', would be mighty pleased that he was having *_tsubaki_ inked into his skin. And a tiger to match with it, of course.

In other words, the tattoos were a way to stroke his ego, which the young tattoo artist soon discovered was rather frail. It turned out that Koganei was not a man unable to go without the tea after all. Takumi, who sensed the struggle he had in keeping face, blandly excused himself for a moment to go to the washroom and give the man some time. By the time he returned, the entire cup of tea, which was probably lukewarm at best for being out for so long, had been drained. Takumi wisely decided not to comment on it and quietly went back to his work.

By the time he was done with it and paid, Koganei craned his neck over his shoulder to get a look at the younger man's handiwork. Takumi couldn't be sure if he actually saw it or not but he assumed he did and was pleased with the tattoo because he insisted on taking him out to the next-door geisha house for a drink. He tried to talk him out of the prospect but the mulish jackass would not take 'no' for an answer. And that was how Usui Takumi was coerced into going right back to what he was trying to divert his attentions from. One long and torturous hour later, the young lad was still sitting next to dense lightweight who was ardently downing his something-th glass of whatever wine he ordered.

Koganei gave a satisfied sigh and asked for another one before turning to Takumi with a belch. The tattoo artist, who was not only underage and preferred not to divulge his control and consciousness to a bitter beverage, was not impressed at all. The icy expression flew right over the other man's head. "To think you live by such a great place and‒_hic!_‒and don't come here." He watched the geishas at the front of the parlour performing *_kabuki_ for the masses. Although it was afternoon, the place was dimly lit to provide an ambiance that was more appropriate for the type of entertainment provided.

"I'm usually quite busy providing my services," Takumi explained, taking a small sip from his barely touched drink. He was still on his first one and, damn, it burned his throat. He managed not to reel back from the bitter taste. "I'm also underage," he added pointedly.

Koganei easily brushed the reason aside. "Just let them know of your acquaintance with me and you will be fine from here on out. Besides, age is not a matter when you are increasing your knowledge in culture." Takumi had several misgivings of what this man defined as 'culture' but made no comment, letting him flaunt his position without reaction with the hopes that he would quickly get bored and leave. Apparently, he was wrong to think the bespectacled man could not get more annoying. "To make use of such a blessing is _such_-" Takumi's lips pressed together tightly as some of the other man's wine sloshed out, splattering onto his yukata "-a waste of your youth, you know. And look at you!" By the slight slur in his voice, it was easy to tell that he was slowly coming under the influence of his drink. He blinked unevenly and sullenly gestured to all of the younger man. "I bet women are all over _you_, you lucky bastard." Takumi bristled, but did not speak. "I wasn't exactly an *_ikemen_ growing up but I was lucky. The girl I loved decided to settle for me. Yup. I was a lucky one."

It seemed that the man was no longer interested in drinking or ogling the geishas at the parlour's front. Instead, Koganei spent a minute swirling his drink about in his glass with his face buried in his other arm. A range of emotions crossed his face as though the churning liquid was speaking to him until he set down the glass down loudly against the table. He turned to look at Takumi with solemn eyes.

'_Now what_,' he wondered wearily. He had not signed up for an emotional confession-session. It was instances like this – though he never imagined something of this sort would happen to him – that made Takumi averse to providing any special attention to his cliental. After all, there was no benefit in making it his business to know about them outside of what he was paid for. '_I should have lied while I had the chance._'

"You know what, Usui?"

The person in question sighed and humoured the man with an explicitly uninterested, "What?"

"I have a wife at home," he stated, sheer awe in his voice and face as though the prospect never occurred to him. Fantastic, Takumi thought darkly, but made no comment on the ridiculous and arbitrary fact. "I'd love to stay and chat but I have to be on my way right now."

Still, Takumi stared at him flatly, the tips of his fingers tapping against the table in silent fury. '_You say that as though I'm the one that dragged you here, you bastard._'

"Please. Don't stay on my account," he said in a pitiful attempt at sounding gracious. Clearly, he did not make the cut. But Koganei was still marvelling over his marriage to notice his irritation.

"While it's a shame I live so far from here, I don't think I mind the distance. I have a great family, y'know." He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath about his wife. Obviously done flaunting his career, he decided to take a new course by parading his pride for his family.

'_Brilliant,_' Takumi thought mordantly. Another thing he could add to the list of things he did not care for and never would care for.

Koganei stood up from his seat, wobbling for a second before he steadied himself and bowed to Usui clumsily. "Thanks again for your schwer-soor-_services_," he finally managed to get out.

And at long last, after one more chuckle, the man left. Takumi stared at his back, cursing how long he had to suffer while the latter walked away with renewed vigour and a distinct spring in his steps. Finally, he pushed away his blasted drink and let his head drop against the table. He should have received payment for having an hour of his life wasted as well as enduring the muddled musings of a class-A moron. He heard someone approach him and lifted his head up slowly, not wanting to deal with any more troublesome people. Takumi was more than ready to go home and collapse into his futon.

Instead, he found the manager of the Okiya looking down at him with a small smile. "Hello again, Usui-san. You look quite exhausted." Her eyes seemed to twinkle with mirth, as though she had easily figured him out and was laughing at his expense but wisely not mentioning it. He was glad the world was not completely full of idiots. "Would you like another drink?"

For a moment, he only stared at her in contemplation. Her smile was kind and had a maternal feeling about it. It seemed out-of-place. Perverse even, considering her occupation. There was something different in the way she treated him compared to their first meeting. Whatever it was, Satsuki had a peculiar feeling about her, less professional as she had been before and more familiar, open. Like she included Takumi into a secret faction without his knowing. For the first time, he was having difficulty reading a person.

Satsuki eyed the drink in front of him, the one he had barely skimmed a layer from, and it was evident that she was waiting for his response. She did not even need the answer – he was aware that she already knew it – still, he played along with her game of kind-hostess and respected-guest.

"No, thank you."

She observed Takumi briefly and then looked around her, quietly dissecting the environment with her keen eyes. The hours of night were creeping in. Yet, surprisingly enough, it was not demanding at all. On such a slow night, the girls were doing well both on the stage and the ones who were tending to refreshment requests. One pair of hands less would not hurt them and besides, she was long overdue for a break with how busy the rest of the afternoon had been.

Politely, Satsuki inquired if he would mind her company and Takumi allowed her to do so with a simple shrug. It was her property and she was free to do as she pleased, he told her. Satsuki laughed at that and gracefully sat herself down across from him. She had noticed the reluctance with which he had come to the Okiya tonight as well as his exasperation. Twice, the girls had come to her in jitters, confirming in hushed tones that _that_ was the new neighbour. Satsuki was quite sure a great many of her workers, contracted but not lodging in the Okiya were deeply regretting their decisions. She watched as he seemed to perk up for a moment, eyes looking behind her. Curious at what could have caught his attention, she also turned around and caught Misaki scowling in their direction. However, as soon as she saw that Satsuki's back was no longer to her, she contorted her face into a painful smile and quickly disappeared into the back with her tray of soiled glasses. Turning back to the man across from her, Satsuki saw him smirk vaguely.

"I see you've already gotten to know our little flower," Satsuki said with a blithe laugh, shaking her head at her (really, _both_ of their) childish antics. But this seemed to help the young man sober up. Whatever hint of amusement that was on his face had been wiped away. "I hope you don't think I was prying but I happened to see you talking to her the other day. It was very interesting." He wondered briefly if he was in trouble. "I have never seen her make such interesting faces around others."

It seemed he was _not_ in trouble. Strange. Nevertheless, Takumi digested her words with care. Another minute passed and Satsuki thought that he was done talking for the night when he asked, "What is she doing here?"

It was a random question to say the least, almost like a topic change. But in the short time she had spoken to him, Satsuki did not believe that Usui Takumi was not someone who wasted his words on trivial matters, especially something as pathetic as a change of topic. That would show a lack of understanding on his part and he seemed to be of the same spirit as Misaki when it came down to a confrontation.

"The same thing the other girls here are doing," she answered. Though it could be considered cryptic and mean of her, Satsuki kept in mind her responsibility to each of her girls and their privacy. Takumi did not seem to mind the obscurity of her response and took it in stride, waiting to see if she would elaborate at all. This once, she decided, she would give him a leg to stand on. "Trying to survive."

She was happy to see that her answer was exactly the one he had been looking for.

* * *

It was official. He was haunting her.

Going to sleep with the thought that as soon as she woke up that morning, as soon as she started her day, he would crop up with the intention of troubling her and making sure her mood stayed miserable for the rest of it. It had been less than pleasant falling asleep and simply nasty waking up. Aoi's comment at breakfast about looking like a "scraggly raccoon" did not have a positive effect on her esteem either.

How was it that a five-year-old could be so discourteous when some of the most compassionate women within Japan raised him? Save for Honoka, of course. Nonetheless, even Honoka managed to show sporadic bursts of kindness from time to time. Or maybe, Misaki thought, she was not thinking of the reasons with the proper logic. Since, Honoka was the most daunting and easily capable of causing fatalities with her sharp tongue it only made sense that she was secretly teaching Aoi the Art of Tormenting Misaki!

'_Urgh. Wake up brain, wake up._' She let her head fall into her hands only to quickly pull it back up when her face lodged itself into a cold and sodden blanket – Honoka's blanket. '_How frightfully appropriate._' She groaned loudly as no one was in the room to inquire about her strangeness. She was quite certain. All around her, the world was conspiring on ruining her day.

As it usually did, the laundry was done in the span of a little under two hours – including the time Misaki had unintentionally devoted to beating herself with soggy clothing and imagined herself wringing out the neck of that tosser, Usui. However, that was only the easy part of her task. There was a time, Misaki recalled sadly, where the entire chore was merely a chore. It had no unnecessary labels or titles that discriminated between 'good parts' and 'bad parts'. Yet that seemed like a long time ago.

'_Only four days ago,_' she reminded herself.

Wondering whether he would be waiting outside for her again, Misaki gingerly opened the back door a few inches to peek out into the yard. She searched the entire area with a sweeping look making sure she saw no sign of her maddening neighbour.

'_Excellent. It looks like he's not there today._' Perhaps she overestimated his abilities and interest in picking on her. Perhaps, even he had enough of a heart to realize when she was trying to avoid him and wanted to be alone. Once more, she peered through the crack in the door. Her eyes scanned the premises of the yard, sharply eying the hedges and her dreaded neighbour's empty porch. Misaki resented the idea of having to be careful and almost apprehensive in her own territory but that stupid Usui made things impossible for her to do – especially after last night. But, today, he was not there. Today, he could not goad her. Today, she would be fine. '_It should be okay._'

"Misa-chan." Misaki jolted in surprise, feeling her heart stop altogether for a millisecond. Regaining control of her breathing and making sure to school her face, she turned around to find Subaru looking down at her curiously. "What are you doing?"

Misaki gave her a small smile, hoping she did not look suspicious. For all the world, she was not the best actress around those who knew her well enough. "Nothing. I'm just going to go and hang the laundry."

Subaru smiled kindly at her and quickly pulled her hair into a bun. "In that case, why don't I help you? I'm not busy with anything right now." While every one of her sisters within the Okiya were nice, Subaru was by far the most compassionate and helpful, usually loved by her customers for her gentle nature.

"It's fine, thank you. I can do it on my own." The older girl gave her an indulgent smile and an odd amount of guilt made its way into Misaki. It was not as though she had _lied_ to Subaru.

"I know you can but look at how big that pile of clothes is. It'll be faster with two hands, right?" Her protest stopped short when Subaru took hold of the other hand of the wicker basket that Misaki usually carried out and Misaki knew it was a lost cause. So, she forced herself to trudge along beside the other girl – was the basket a little heavier than usual or was it harder to move when she was being helped? Whatever the case, she made sure to move along with Subaru's speed and balance ("This basket is so heavy. You're amazing for carrying it everyday, Misa-chan.") She couldn't risk spilling the clothes. Still, things went on with more fluidity as they began to hang the clothing up.

'_It's nice to have some company_,' Misaki thought. They decided that things would go quickly if they both started on opposite ends of the lines and made their way to the centre. As though she had heard her thoughts, Subaru looked over her shoulder to flash her a spirited grin and Misaki returned the gesture with her own timid smile.

She was so busy wringing and hanging the laundry, she did not notice the approaching man-plague until he stood over the hedge and said, "Hello again, _Tsubomi_-chan."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thank you very much for all the kind reviews and views. I appreciate all the support I am getting.  
In particular, I think what made me laugh was the review as left by _Queen Ore-sama_. Truly, I laughed quite loudly (snorts and all) when I read it. I suppose he does seem like a pedophile, no? Funnily enough, I never meant for it to seem that way considering this is a progression I'm trying to depict. It is a very good thing that he isn't hitting on her – at least, that is how I perceive my story (as an added note within this note, I should say that I stick to John Green's policy of a story and it's interpretation belonging to it's reader). But, yeah, he was not written as a pedophile originally nor will he written as such in the future. Otherwise, there will be police sirens in the near future for our main man. ;)

*_Translation and Terminology Notes_

_Irezumi_: tattooing in Japanese which is referred to as "insertion of ink" as a permanent skin decoration; can include many styles of tattooing (traditional by hand, machine insertion) but in the story's context it is very specific to the traditional Japanese hand-tattooing method called tebori ("to carve, sculpt, or inscribe) – which is admired for the way it can create very delicate gradations of colour which are more difficult to do with machines

_Yakisoba_: fried buck-wheat noodles (ramen-style noodles) that are usually quite thin in appearance (offshoot of the more widely recognized Chinese chow mein) – not to be mistaken for the softer, thicker variation of fried udon noodles known as "yakiudon"

_Tsubaki_: it means "camellia" in Japanese, which is a type of flower

_Kabuki_: as taken from Google (thank you technology!), "a form of traditional Japanese drama [and theatre] with highly stylized song, mime, and dance". Today, it is limited to males as a form of classical art however it was once considered an (erotic) form of theatre performed by both genders as entertainment

_Ikemen_: a Japanese expression that means "very handsome man" or in just plain ol' Anglais, it translates as a "hot guy"

**Author's Note (again):** I am SO sorry for all of this pointless writing in my notes. I don't blame anyone who skips them. Truthfully, it is what I would probably do were I in your shoes.

**...::::~ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ****~::::..**


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

* * *

She knew it had been too good to be true. But it was her own fault for even getting her hopes up in the first place. How many times had she restrained herself from feeling anticipation; expecting something good to happen? How many times had she put a chain on her heart, making sure her spirit did not lift itself too high while knowing that there was a possibility that it could be pushed over to make the fall even more painful than it needed to be? Too many to count. She had no one but herself to blame for such disappointment. The world slowed down as though time was pulling itself through *_mochi_. She blinked, almost unevenly, and felt some part of her go dumb. Regardless, she continued with her chore because, for the life of her, Misaki could not find it in her to be surprised. She simply could not.

Some part of her wished to cry and scream and rip her hair out by the roots – but she refused to hand over the victory of grating her nerves. Another part of her wished to bury herself alive. A third part of her, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to throttle the trying man and then toss his body into predator infested waters.

'_Breathe Misaki, breathe,_' she told herself. One glance at his face and she had to repeat the thought more forcefully, willing herself to not commit homicide. '_He will get tired of harassing you and then go away on his own._'

Thus, for nearly fifteen minutes, Misaki was forced to deal with her neighbour's incessant babbling about how 'nice the day is' and how 'boring breakfast was' and 'did she think he needed to lose some weight'. And with every passing second, Misaki was sorely tempted to take one of the many _yukatas_ she hung up, wrap it around his neck, and throttle the life out of him. Reminding herself about Satsuki's disappointment with her was necessary time and time again.

"You know, Tsubomi-chan," Misaki's teeth clenched. Why did he insist on such a ridiculous name? "It isn't very nice to ignore your friendly neighbour." It was plain to see that she had no intention of being a good person around him; furthermore, Usui Takumi was a delusional nutter if he considered himself a so-called 'friendly neighbour'. "Are you listening?"

"No," she said curtly. For a moment, he became quiet and she nearly thought that the man decided it would be best to leave. Her hope crashed and burned without mercy when his mouth opened again.

He continued to echo the ridiculous name he made up for her but upon the realization that she was trying to appear unprovoked, he switched tactics. The nuisance-neighbour-from-hell went on about describing how boring his day was yesterday and how boring his customers were. Unwittingly, she found out much about him in the span of his babble; he was a business-man of sorts and that, just as she suspected, was a layabout when there was no one to provide his services to. But, he truly began stretching her patience thin when he began to pick on _her_ – as though he had not already caught a glimpse of what _she_ did for sustenance – and how she seemed like a frumpy old lady in the body of a child. It was becoming harder and harder to keep her hands from chucking her basket at him or rip her hair out by the roots (preferably the former, because she needed her hair for her training).

"Misa-chan!" As though an answer to her silent prayers and a way to keep her from imprisonment, fate sent Subaru in her direction with a kind smile and a basket filled to the brim with dry clothes to iron – a chore that would let her escape the prison that was her nightmarish neighbour! Misaki turned her back to the man and she could swear that never before had she felt such absolute, sincere adoration in her life. Truly, her older sister was an angel in disguise.

Behind her, the neighbour continued to spew drivel. But Misaki's shoulders sank and she felt like dropping dead with a groan when he chirruped, "I see. Your name is Misa-chan. That's unexpectedly cute, you know." He gave an obnoxious chuckle, the bogusness of it rubbing raw against her eardrum.

Teeth gnashing together, Misaki had to motivate herself: Subaru was already half way across the yard with her escape ticket and that in order to receive it, she had to quickly finish her part of the task. Hence, she put all her effort into hanging up the rest of her clothes – movements faster than anything she had ever done, since her life depended it on it – and to help block out his droning voice, she recited to herself a passage from a book Aoi had loaned to her (after much pleading and flattery) last week.

It was an insightful book, full of lots of instruction and wisdom. Though, it was not made with the intention of providing advice for the life of an ordinary young girl, there was still much she took to heart. '_In every army, the five developments connected with fire must be known, the movements of the stars calculated, and a watch kept for the proper days._'

Then her neighbour went from commenting to singing her name in various, monotonous tones. "Misa-chan. Mi-sa-chan. _Misa-chan_." Could he be any more obnoxious and stupid? She prayed that he wasn't.

Misaki trekked on painfully, her movements becoming ferocious in her attempt to escape: '_Hence those who use fire as an aid to the attack show intelligence; those who use water as an aid to the attack gain an accession of strength._'

Then he stopped singing long enough to give a backwards compliment: "A cute name for a scary little girl." Again with that obnoxious, fake laughter.

'_Unhappy is the fate of one who tries to win his battles and succeed in his attacks without cultivating the spirit of enterprise; for the result is waste of time and general stagnation._' Just two more pieces of clothing, she had to remind herself.

"Nevertheless, you're still a Tsubomi to me." So very, very, very obnoxious…

"Good morning," Subaru said, having finally approached Misaki. While it had been a surprise to finally see the highly-favoured neighbour, it was even more so to see her young trainee conversing with him. "You must be the neighbour Satsuki-sama mentioned. Usui Takumi-kun, I presume?" He nodded. Misaki noticed that he had completely sobered up. His expression was one she had not seen since they first met. "I am Subaru. It is a pleasure to meet you." She bowed graciously and Takumi reciprocated the gesture in kind. "I see you are already acquainted with Misa-chan." She noticed the young girl huff and was slightly taken aback. It was rare to see Misaki so casual and without pretence in front of strangers. Subaru smiled down at the girl. "I didn't realize you've already became such quick friends with the new neighbour."

'_I didn't…_' She missed the dark expression that fell over Misaki's countenance, twisting her lips into something of a grimace. Yet, the girl was disinclined to telling Subaru otherwise, thinking she would find out soon enough that the term 'friends' was out of the question. On the other hand, Takumi had to refrain from smirking at her obvious aversion to the other woman's words and the twitch in his jaw did not go unnoticed by Misaki.

"Satsuki-sama mentioned you perform *_irezumi_." Misaki had to hold her tongue to keep from making a snide comment on him having a job in the first place with the way, she assumed, he lazed about his house the entire day.

Takumi simply nodded. "That's right."

"Do you have many customers?" He nearly sighed, not wanting to engage in small talk. Far too often, Takumi was forced to evade the hounding of persistent women with a manic, plotting look in their eyes. Their tenacity was just as bothersome as their inability to handle rejection when he wanted nothing to do with it from the beginning. He was grateful, at least, that Subaru did not seem suspicious or scheming. Then again, once could never be too careful.

"I have established a few," he answered nonchalantly.

"That's nice to hear," she said genuinely. She looked down to Misaki expectantly and with a heavy sigh, she bobbed her head curtly – just a tiny incline – in humoured agreement. "Our Erika-chan is also very interested in having *_irezumi_ done. She was very pleased to hear that such an artist moved in as our new neighbour."

"I am usually free." Misaki could attest that statement with pleasure. In fact, she might even add that he was a languid and troublesome person to boot. "She is welcome to come in whenever the time suits her." Misaki immediately considered talking Erika into getting a very complex tattoo done in the morning hours. It was the perfect plan to avoid the irksome neighbour for a few days and relive the peace she had during laundry time before their unfortunate meeting.

"I'll let her know then." Misaki was relieved to see her pick up a basket and quickly hoisted up her own, eyes darting to the secure confines of the Okiya – the haven in which there would be no Usui Takumi. Unbeknownst to her, Takumi was also rather eager to retreat. "It was very nice meeting you, Usui-kun." And there was the cue Takumi was looking for that would allow him release from conversation.

"Please treat me favourably." He bowed again and was already slowly inching back. Subaru did not notice it and even if she did, she did not say anything as she repeated the gesture kindly.

"Yes, of course. Same with us." Grudgingly, so as to not disappoint her elder sister, Misaki also (stiffly) bowed to her neighbour. When Subaru had turned her back, she caught the way he sneered and she glared at him before veering her face away proudly and following the older woman.

As calm as Subaru had been when talking to their new neighbour, she was not nearly as collected when she told the other women about conversing with the handsome young man just over the fence. It would be wrong to say she gushed over him, considering her naturally gentle tone, however, the excited flush that came over her cheeks was impossible to miss. Misaki had left her older sisters to their swooning and tittering but even as she passed by an hour later with her laundry basket full of neatly pressed and folded clothes, she rolled her eyes. They were _still_ gushing over Usui Takumi.

Particularly Erika, whose pitchy squeal and girlish giggles Misaki heard from all the way at the end of the hall. She assumed that Subaru had told the other girl about his agreeing to give her a tattoo._ 'I don't understand what's so great about him anyways.'_

As far as Misaki was concerned, she would be eternally grateful if she never had anything to do with that man ever again. But, fate did not show her such kindness as the next morning - like gruelling clockwork, it seemed – Usui Takumi showed his arrogant face again and opened his abnormally large mouth to chip away at her ears and sanity with his chatter. Half way through the torture, Misaki was surprised to see Erika come out and she wondered with a sigh if the baton of "helping" was being passed on between the older girls as an excuse to meet the celebrated neighbour.

Sending a cursory glance towards her neighbour, a smug smirk tilted up the corners of Misaki's lips when his chatter died down. Erika had, as she had already predicted, the excuse of offering her help but occupied her eyes more than her hands. Misaki noted that for all the nonsense he uttered around her, he was poor at communicating with the others and used the same mechanic pleasantries he had with Subaru. Needless to say, it amused her greatly and lifted her spirits as she finished up with the laundry.

With her newly gained vigour, she completed her chore and smirked at Takumi as he stood, bored stiff by Erika's monologue on her interest in *_irezumi_. Some part of her had the heart to pity the man, but for the most part Misaki's world felt wondrous again and she parted with a word of farewell to her elder sister and the haughty lilt of her lips towards that infuriating Usui Takumi. And so it went that her sisters had indeed decided to pass the baton on, accompanying her to the backyard with the half-hearted intention to help and the inescapable temptation to engage their neighbour in what they assumed was a riveting conversation.

It was also exactly twelve days later that the other girls at the Okiya had decided that Misaki was fine doing laundry on her own and did not need any 'help', as they so nicely put it. In reality, they clued in, after a few days of his absence, that perhaps they were forcing their company too much on their new neighbour. Takumi's morning visits had become cautious. So, on the first morning where she was left unaccompanied, Misaki spied, from the corner of her eye, the lean silhouette with messy hair in the neighbour's window. It lingered for a moment before disappearing and her neighbour came out of his house, the day's paper tucked under his arm. He slowly walked over to the thick green hedges that doubled as the fence between their two yards and slouched against his tree, staring at her impassively.

For the first time since she met him, Misaki stopped doing the laundry of her own will and looked up at her neighbour calmly. There was no yelling, no bantering, no blushing, no teasing. It was simply quiet. A part of her missed the company she received, the liveliness that briefly touched her too-serene mornings. She waited for him to say something, wondering if his teasing ways had been cured.

She blinked for a moment and his lips had tugged down into a boyish pout. "You are a very cruel person," he said. Misaki did not know what possessed her to do it, but for the first time since they met, genuine laughter bubbled out of her throat and into the air around her. "To think you could be so mean," he said wryly, watching her entire body shudder with amusement at his expense. Takumi's words only made her double over and clutch her stomach. Her laughter was infectious and, unable to help himself from catching such an outbreak, he also chuckled.

Vengeance was sweet and the irony of how it was served – as incessant chatter – was even sweeter. They were finally even. Fate had done her a kindness after all.

* * *

Having learned their lesson and earned quite a scolding from Satsuki when she learned of the girls' harassing their new neighbour, Erika took her previously proffered invitation whole-heartedly. This time had more to do with her interest in getting a tattoo – although, there was the obvious knowledge that it was not _strictly_ to get a tattoo.

Over the next week, during her free time in the day, Erika visited the neighbour's house to get her much-anticipated tattoo. And every time she would return, she would proudly show the other girls another part of the tattoo that was completed – with the exception of Misaki, who really had no interest in it. She was unable to stay for a lengthy amount of time to have it done so Takumi kindly did the most he could with the time he was given. He was careful not to rush it or it wouldn't be worth paying for – according to a swooning Erika, those were his exact words.

Takumi, on the other hand, had been very grateful to find that his enthusiastic neighbours were no longer as intrusive and pushy. They respected his space, not to mention his disinclination for idle conversation. He had been wary when he agreed to provide his services to the most persistent of the woman – Erika, if he recalled her name correctly. But, it had turned out to be fine. He was grateful to see that she was mostly quiet throughout her frequent visits. He had been impressed by her endurance, hardly flinching from the pain of the needles when so many of his customers, large and hefty, broke down into tears from the pricks. To his surprise, she had once fallen asleep as well. When he relayed this to Misaki, the young girl merely shrugged; her face did not betray any sign of disbelief or surprise at his words. Her lack of response, however, prompted him to bother her with other pointless things ("_Say, Tsubomi-chan. Do you drool in your sleep?_") and she wished she had just feigned some sort of reaction to get him off her case.

All things considered, Misaki felt that Erika was slowly climbing up the ranks of the pests – where Usui Takumi stood as the Brigadier General of Nuisances – with the way she would take any and every opportunity to flash her tattoo. Misaki could not remember the last time she had felt so relieved when her sister announced that her tattoo would finally be completed. By the time it was done, Erika had come and was eagerly boasting the beautifully finished butterfly-koi fish. Having ignored her constant pestering the entire week, Misaki got her first look of the tattoo when she went to the *_onsen _with her sisters. Luckily, Erika was permitted access into the house – despite her tattoo – and considering only the women from the Okiya were at the bath house tonight, she proudly strutted about to show it off before descending into the steaming water.

She sat next to Misaki and turned around to rest her arms on the edge of the bath. Then, with a grin she asked, "Usui-kun did a good job on it, didn't he, Misa-chan?" The girl in question looked at the tattoo, curiosity having finally gotten the better of her. It was fairly large, but not as much as the ones the *_yakuza_ usually sported. Nor was it nearly as ostentatious.

It was elegant on the voluptuous Erika. The fish swept from the tail at the corner of her shoulder blade to where it spiralled around a sprig of pink ericas down to the handsome creature's head on the dip of her waist. Bursts of water curled out from underneath its fins and tail in the same way ivy leaves bent out from their vines under the sun.

Out loud, Misaki would never admit exactly how beautiful the art was. Although the other girls crooned over receiving a tattoo and how lucky she was to be in the proximity of such a handsome man, Misaki inspected the tattoo's details. She noticed the way he made the shape flow as though it were really a fish swimming in water and the ranges of a single colour that allowed for a nice transition and shade in its scales. However, the most beautiful part was the flowers and the precision with which they were etched. Bell-shaped with lavender-pink petals and a dark eye in its centre, the ericas looked like they were truly ready to blossom right on Erika's skin. After much internal debate, she had decided to ask her sister if she could feel it. With a cautious finger, she stroked Erika's shoulder and was a little surprised to find that the texture was like regular skin. Though it was still a little tender, she noticed upon closer inspection that there was actually a very thin outline of black ink about the shapes; it was smoother in comparison.

All in all, Erika had stepped out of the _onsen_ that night a very smug women, having received a very genuine compliment from Misaki: "It looks very flattering on you, *_Nee-san_." So much so, she went as far as to brag about the compliment in front of Aoi when they came across him on the way home. He only rolled his eyes at the grown woman's juvenile behaviour.

Thus, Misaki endured another week of shameless arrogance from Erika. Whenever anyone asked if it was painful at all, she moaned about the way it was downright _excruciating_ but she held on for the sake of it. Misaki was the only one who knew better. Then, with a coy smile, Erika blathered on about how gentle and kind Takumi was about it, making both Aoi and Misaki scoff. Aoi, Misaki perceived, was pleased by the fact that she was not as stupid to become wholly infatuated by the gorgeous boy ("_Man_, Aoi-chan. _Man_," Erika corrected with great emphasis) next door.

For all his demerits, Misaki had to admit – only to herself, of course – that Usui Takumi was a tattoo artist with exceptional talent. She half considered recognizing his skills aloud (she had a hunch that he was waiting for it) but quickly shot down the thought every time he showed up with that stupid grin when she was out doing the laundry. If only he could get more customers to tattoo earlier in the day so he wouldn't have any time to bother her. She sorely requested to God that her prayers be granted. From the way Takumi showed up every morning, ready to start his day by delivering a hearty dose of harassment, she could easily tell that such a wish would probably not come true at the moment. Besides, for all the trouble he caused, Takumi's presence in the morning was slowly becoming a part of her regular day – if it was not already.

As soon as he opened his (stupid) mouth, she thought with an exhausted sigh, '_You're doomed, Misaki._' At the same time, it was necessary for her to determinedly ignore the absurd amity and ease she did not want to but still felt around the, as of late, not-so-new neighbour.

"Morning, Tsubomi-chan. That's an interesting expression you have. I've never seen so many wrinkles on a child before. If I didn't know better, I would guess you were at least fifty," he remarked.

"Shut up, old man." Amity and ease? No doubt, Misaki was clinically insane.

She felt a certain amount of frustration this morning as there was _so_ much laundry that Satsuki thought it would be enough for her to do that and leave her other chores to those of her sisters who had some time to spare. There was five times as much laundry as there was on a normal day and she would be pressed for space when hanging them up. She scanned the area, trying to plan out how she would hang the laundry so there would be none leftover because leftover clothes meant hanging wet clothes around the Okiya and that meant having to listening to Honoka's taunts about being unable to do her jobs properly.

"That's a lot of laundry you have there," Takumi quipped, breaking her from her musings. She pointedly ignored him and tried to focus on her task at hand but he was making it difficult with his nattering. "I can help you with your problem."

With bloated pride and her usual unwillingness to entertain pity-parties, Misaki ground out a curt, "I'm fine, thank you."

Takumi stared at the back of her head with a deadpan face. He didn't say a word afterwards, opting merely to sit back and watch the little girl's staunch concentration. She kept looking back at her laundry as though hoping the amount of it would magically reduce itself with each glance and quickly grew frustrated. A smirk tugged on his lips when she stood with her hands on her waist and a mighty glower on her face at the lack of lines to hang the rest of the laundry; her plans weren't working. There wasn't enough line or pins for everything.

"Hey," he started again only to be cut off with a furious scowl.

"Can't you go bother someone else?" Was it too hard to let up on his games for just one day? She must have been possessed when she had missed his company so many days ago.

Takumi neither smiled nor smirked at her and if she was surprised by this, Misaki did not show it. She only hoped that he would have the decency to just leave her be. "Put the large clothes on the end and more of the smaller ones in the middle. They dry faster so you can bunch some of them together." Misaki, however, was surprised at the advice she was receiving. She opened her mouth to tell him off again, to let him know she really did not require his help and to shove his sympathy up his posterior while he was at it, but was never given the chance to say so. "Use one pin between two of the smaller things so you can have at least one for the bigger pieces. And if there's still not enough room, you can hang the rest later because it's supposed to be relatively warm today so the smaller pieces of clothes will dry fast and you can take them inside earlier."

When she was sure that he was done lecturing her, Misaki was prepared to yell some choice obscenities but froze. She mulled over his advice and, after looking back at the laundry for a second, found that it could work well. Glancing back at Takumi, she found him peering into his newspaper and apparently reading it. That was a first, she thought. Wordlessly, she went and fixed the laundry as he had recommended. It worked superbly and after making quick work of the laundry, she was surprised to find herself left with only a basket of washcloths. After some of the thinner yukatas dried up, she could put out the rest of it in the afternoon. She peered back at Takumi and saw that he was no longer out on the porch. For the first time ever, he had gone back in early.

Misaki felt confused and very guilty. Realizing that there was no point to staying out any longer, she piled up her baskets and went back inside. Satsuki was surprised to see that she was done so quickly and after explaining how she planned to hang out the rest of the laundry afterwards was praised. As a reward, Satsuki told her that she had cut up some fresh cucumbers – one of her friends had dropped them off to her as a treat – and that she was free to have some.

"After all," Satsuki said brightly. "It's warm out and from the way you're sweating, it must not have been easy hanging up all that laundry." Crouching down, the Okiya's mother soothingly wiped the perspiration that had built up over Misaki's forehead with her handkerchief. "You should cool off before noon time."

Misaki gave her a tentative smile and thanked her. Nevertheless, something was eating at her. '_You didn't thank that stupid old man,_' her conscious supplied helpfully and for all her stubbornness, she was not one to deny the truth. She would have been out for much longer and had even more work to do if Takumi had not helped her.

Just as Satsuki said, bowls of sliced cucumbers sat in the middle of the fridge and as her fingers itched to grab some, she refrained. Closing the door to the cool snack, she instead helped herself to a glass of water. She greedily guzzled it down and as she finally quenched the thirst she was unaware she had built up, Misaki got an idea. For the rest of the day, she made it her goal to not seem distracted. She did the rest of her chores, helped her sisters with theirs, and trained properly with Subaru when her regular customers arrived. In between her tasks, however, she also peeked out of the back door, through the laundry, and into the yard of her neighbour.

One time, Aoi, who had dropped by after school as usual, found her peering out of the back door. Not seeing her obnoxious neighbour, Misaki turned around with a heavy sigh but ended up squeaking as she was startled to find him right behind her. "What are you doing," he asked slowly, expressing something between disbelief and disgust.

"Um, that is," Misaki started, not knowing how she would explain herself. Her hemming and hawing at his question only caused his face to become more and more exaggerated in its expression. She realized that she was not helping herself by being so evasive. "It's not what you think," she said firmly.

"Right," he sneered, obviously not believing her. And here he had thought she was different – after all, she was the uncouth weirdo he knew as _Misaki_ – but he supposed he should have known better. Girls would be girls and obviously, Misaki harboured a secret crush or something on their neighbour. He didn't understand what was so great about that tattooing-chump anyways. "So, what were you doing looking out at the neighbour's house?"

"I owe him a debt," she stated plainly. Apparently, it did not have the affect she was hoping for as Aoi became increasingly alarmed.

"What. Did. You._ Do?_" Better yet, what did the other guy do? Misaki was nothing if not a goody-goody model citizen.

Aoi was loud and she had to shush him so he did not end up blowing things out of proportion or, worse, having her caught by her sisters. Honoka would never let her live it down if she found Misaki doing something _nice_ for the neighbour she constantly scowled at the mention of. In a harsh whisper, she said, "Nothing, nothing, I swear!"

"Then tell me why you owe him," he hissed back.

Misaki sighed. While he was much more mature than the other boys she had seen around the town, Aoi could still be so immature sometimes and she much preferred it when she was his usual sharp self. "He helped me with my laundry so I have to thank him."

Aoi's tight countenance dropped and he was back to his usual scowling. "Is that all?" Huffily, he stomped off without an explanation and muttering darkly about 'unnecessary worrying' and 'false alarms' and 'what an idiot' under his breath. As puzzled as she was, Misaki was relieved that she solved that problem quickly.

By the time it was close to sunset, Misaki decided to take another look out the door. Seeing as it was a no-show, she sighed and wondered if he only came out in the mornings just to bother her. He probably did. That sadistic jerk, she thought darkly. Just as she was about to close the door, she noticed the back door to her neighbour's porch open and watched in surprise as Takumi stepped out of his house.

'_Finally_,' she thought as she quickly grabbed the bowl from the fridge and stepped out of the Okiya.

After making sure to close the door behind her, she quickly pattered her way over to the hedges. Takumi was utterly dumbfounded when he noticed the little girl from next door was running up to him excitedly. Whatever he had been expecting when he stepped out, this was not it. It was a completely different behaviour from her usual short-tempered and surly disposition. To be honest, he couldn't recall seeing her with anything but a creased forehead and frown on her mouth when it came to him. With a few exceptions, of course. She ran up to the hedges with flushed cheeks – the length of the Okiya's backyard was a larger distance on her stout legs than it would be for him – and bright eyes. For her to look so excited, he wondered if he was dying early or she had placed a curse on him but was further surprised when she held up a covered bowl in her hands. Seeing her stretch on her toes just to hand it to him, Takumi instinctively took it from her and then wondered if it was a death trap.

His mystification over this ordeal must have been very apparent because Misaki quickly clarified, "There are fresh cucumber slices in there. It's really hot today so they'll cool you off."

"I see." It was all he managed to say, still unsure of exactly what was going on. Perhaps she was trying to poison him?

"I saw _n__ee-san_'s tattoos, as well," Misaki said out of the blue. Takumi had to work to keep up with the jump of the topic. She was such an unpredictable child. "I think they're very pretty and well-done. I respect that you didn't skimp out simply because you felt she was troublesome. I've never really considered tattoos artistic however the way you did it made it seem natural, as if everything grew on her skin, and it looks very elegant on her." Her words were blunt and said in a very matter-of-fact tone. "Even though you're still a lazy jerk, I no longer think you're incompetent. I acknowledge your skills."

For a few seconds, Takumi stared at her dumbly while she looked up with the same unaffected austerity since she began talking. However, her expression quickly became alarmed when his lips curled up into a smile. "Is that so," Takumi asked wryly, smothering his chuckles behind a fist. She was unbelievable!

Misaki gaped at him, going from shock to spluttering anger. "I-I-I take it back!"

"You can't take back a compliment." Although, technically, she had insulted him in between her appraisal. Nevertheless, the details were insignificant compared to the pleasant surprise he felt. Takumi never imagined she would willingly say nice things about him to begin with.

Misaki huffed indignantly. She never heard such a rule ‒ mostly because Takumi made it up ‒ but there was no way she would accept it. So with all the smugness of an accomplished rebel, she sneered, "I just did!"

Takumi snorted at her childishness. '_What a brat,_' he thought with some ounce of fondness. Then, pulling off her signature move, she proudly spun on her heel and stalked back to the Okiya.

She only paused when she heard him call out behind her, "Misa-chan." She spared a glance over her shoulder and grumpily asked him what it was that he wanted now. Instead, she was met with the astonishing sight of him smiling ‒ not smirking or leering, but genuinely _smiling_. "Thank you."

The back of her neck suddenly burned and she decided, even though the day was slowly coming to an end, it was still too hot outside. She turned her face away from him. "It was nothing," she muttered, not caring whether he heard her or not. She had already repaid her debt after all and with that burden off her shoulders, Misaki walked back into the inn pleased with herself.

Seeing as she was gone, Takumi settled on his porch and unwrapped the plastic from the bowl. Just as Misaki said, the cucumbers were crisp and refreshing in the humid afternoon. He grinned to himself because whether she wanted him to hear it or not, he _did_ hear her seemingly indifferent response. For a hard-headed brat, she could be endearingly honest as well as kind ‒ in her own aggressive manner.

'_And unpredictable, as always,_' he thought while munching on the cool snack. '_Not that that's a bad thing._'

Yes. It was just another regular day.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hm... I can't help but feel that the ending seems rushed. Let me know what you think. Thank you for the feedback. I hope that more people will follow this story as it moves along and give me feedback, comments, or whatever it is they choose to write. Drop by for a hello, if you wish! :) I know it's (very) slow right now but I hope to pick the plot up quickly. I want to address the people who kindly reviewed and will do so on my profile.

*_Translation and Terminology Notes:_

_Mochi_: a Japanese rice cake made from a sweet, short-grained rice that is usually rather sticky which makes it easy to pound into a paste and then mould/shape it as one desires. Not to mention, it is absolutely delectable! But the main idea here is that it's some really sticky and gummy stuff, y'know?

_Tsubomi_: it means "flower bud" in Japanese - in this case, a little pun considering our heroine's name. Since, _Misaki_ translates as "beautiful blossom." Get it, because she's still a child, she's a 'bud' rather than a 'blossom'. Ah-ha-ha-ha... no? On another note, didn't I already note this in the last chapter or something?

_Irezumi_: I'm pretty sure it was in the last chapter, too. But, as a recap, it is the art of tattooing in Japanese which or "insertion of ink" to permanently decorate skin.

_Onsen_: as described by the very useful Wikipedia, it is a term for "hot springs", although it is also used to describe the other bathing facilities and the inn around the hot spring in general. It is specific to the outdoor hot spring variety, different from **sento**, which are an indoor public baths.

_Yakuza_: in the most basic of terms, I suppose one can refer to them as the 'Japanese mafia' that is also known as the **gokudo**. Again, according to Wikipedia, Ruling Emperor of Worldly Encyclopedias, they are members of transnational organized crime syndicates but are (in)famous for their strict code of conduct and their organization.

_Nee-san_: again, the way she addresses the others is different from the more formal way she addresses Subaru (_Onee-sama_) since the latter is her mentor.

Extra - _Erica_: the English name for the evergreen flowers that are, when Japanese is romanized, known as **Erika** (hence, Erika's name in the story... yaknowwhatImean?).

**..::::~ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ~::::..**


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